When the Going Gets Tough, The Tough Go Get Tacos
by NowIMustRinse
Summary: The last thing Sarah Powell needs the night before her final exams is to be dragged along by her favorite television zombie-killer for a night of drunken, taco-seeking adventure.
1. Chapter 1

Sarah Powell awoke from a coveted night of sleep before her final exam in AP Chemistry the way most people would be expected to rise when their doorbell goes off in the dead of night: Unhappily. She sat up in curiosity, her body still heavy with sleep as she waited deliriously for another ring to assure her that there was a good reason she was awake at such an ungodly hour. She picked up the alarm clock beside her bed and glared down angrily at the fuzzy red numbers blinking on the screen. 2:57. Sarah's chest tightened at seeing the time flash unapologetically across the clock, fearing that she would not be able to fall back asleep in time, when the doorbell rang again, almost forgotten, and her back went stiff with shock.

Sarah cautiously climbed out of bed and crept a few feet over to her closed bedroom door. Her hand hovered over the knob as awaited another sound with baited breath, imagining what kind of horrible occurrence would come of her opening the door so late at night. The ringing came again, a single chime echoing throughout her home, before it suddenly became a cacophonous melody that stuttered and shrieked through the house, the noise hardly even pausing between rings. She gasped in terror and jumped backwards, scrambling to locate her pajama bottoms on the darkened bedroom floor, for she would not be caught dead answering the door in only her camisole and Wonder Woman underwear. She found them half tucked under her bed and began to pull them on in a hurry as the obnoxious ringing persisted. She had one leg in and struggled to keep her balance as she tried to pull the other on, but instead stepped on the fabric clumsily and toppled to the floor with a thump. Eventually she managed to finish getting dressed and stormed out of her room, grabbing a hair tie and her glasses from off the nightstand as she went.

The figure was visible through the opaque windows on either side of her front door, an irregularly shaped shadow of a human in the patterned glass. The doorbell continued to ring, and she could see the figure's hand moving to continuously press the button outside her door. She sprinted down the stairs angrily, a fury of curses on her tongue as she unbolted and swung open the front door. The anger vanished from her face along with the ringing of the bell as she stood in her doorway, staring with utter surprise at the man slouching on her front porch.

"M'ask you something." Shane slurred, resting an arm against the doorframe above her head. He leaned down and blinked at her a of couple times, his eyes bleary and pink. "You wanna go get tacos?"

Sarah stared at him wordlessly. He looked exactly as he did on the television show, exactly like the actor who portrayed him. His shirt was wrinkled and untucked, the crumpled yellow Kentucky Police Department emblem dully reflecting the light of her porch lamps. A belt was buckled around his khaki cargo pants, accessorized with a gun holster and leather sheath that he thumbed patiently as he stared at her. Sarah fumbled with her glasses a bit before placing them on her nose, squinting closely at his face in disbelief. He didn't bother to move back and instead hiccupped in her face, causing her to draw away at the poignant smell of alcohol.

"Are you drunk?" She asked in hushed skepticism.

"You can drive, right?" He asked, brushing off her question as he stepped inside the house.

She backed up until her feet hit the staircase behind the door, stumbled a bit, and fell onto the second step. She thought about running because that was usually her plan of action when she was terrified of anything, but the prospect of him possibly chasing her, however drunk he was, frightened her more, and it wasn't as if she was any good at running; she couldn't even run the mile at her high school in the required amount of time. He stared at her as she cowered on the staircase for a moment as he scratched his head, and continued to walk off down her hallway aimlessly, not bothering to shut the door behind him. Sarah gripped her head in her hands for a minute and smacked her fists against her temples in an effort to possibly rouse herself from whatever subconscious mindfuck was happening, completely bewildered, but shook herself out of it when she heard her kitchen cabinets opening and shutting noisily. She closed and relocked the front door quickly before racing down the hall after him. He was standing in her kitchen, face buried in the cabinets above her oven. She looked to the clock on the counter beside her and saw the digital numbers blinking back the time at her: 3:13. It blinked again. 3:14.

"What are you doing?" She questioned in aggravation.

"Lookin' for your car keys." He answered cheerily, like it should have been obvious.

"No. What are you doing_ here_? In my house? At three in the morning?"

She picked up the clock and waved it at him for emphasis, but he only shrugged at it passively.

"Oh, tacos." He added, smiling at the mention. "I'm here for tacos."

He slammed another cabinet door shut loudly, and Sarah cringed. She walked over to the small rack by her garage door and lifted her keys off of it.

"Hey, stop that. My keys aren't in there. They're right here, quit slamming things." She shouted at him, jangling the keys to get his attention.

"How…was I s'posed to know where y'all keep things?" He asked touchily.

He leaned against her counter and rolled his tongue in his mouth, waiting for her to say something. Sarah gave him a wide stare and flung her face into her hands, expecting him to be gone when she looked back up, since she was fully convinced that this whole ordeal was a strange lucid dream she was having. She kept her eyes closed as she quickly tied her hair back with the hair tie, but when she opened her eyes he was still drunkenly waiting in her kitchen for tacos.

"Is this real?" She whispered to him quietly. She tried again and placed her hands over her face, opening and closing her fingers over the sight of him, but each time she peeked between her fingers, he would still be there.

"I'm really hungry."

"I don't care. I can't take you to go get tacos, are you outta your mind?" She laughed at his offhanded response. "It is…god, it is close to three thirty on the night before final exams, and you want me to take you out to get tacos?"

"Uh-huh."

"I don't have time for this! I need to sleep."

"Well, the sooner you shut up and take me, the faster you'll get back to sleep." He replied with a silly assurance.

She was quiet for a moment as she stared at him, shaking her head. "I can't believe I'm doing this." She mumbled to herself as she picked her keys up off the counter.

He jumped up from the countertop with a smile and ran towards her, grabbing her by the arm excitedly as he opened the garage door.

"Wait, wait, I'm not ready!"

"It's fine, come on!"

"No, no, I'm not even wearing shoes. I'm…I'm not even wearing a bra!" She panicked, whispering the last part harshly in embarrassment.

"It's okay, you don't need either of those things, come on let's _go_."


	2. Chapter 2

"I like your PJs."

Shane poked a finger into the fabric over her knee, distorting the face of the little cartoon panda emblem that patterned her pants.

"Thank you."

Theirs was one of the only cars on the street that night, the turn lanes and stoplights retaining a mocking sort of emptiness that told Sarah just how ridiculous it was that she was out so late driving the inebriated character from one of her favorite televisions shows to Taco Bell on a school night. She thought about what her friends would think of her midnight adventure if she ever mentally recovered from it, and wondered whether or not her neighbors had seen her leave the driveway with a strange, tipsy man insisting that she roll down the window so he could climb inside like a racecar driver. She tried not to look over at him and face the reality of it, instead trying to focus her wired attention on the road. The clock in her car reminded her every minute that she was making a terrible mistake. When she looked down at the green numbers they blinked 3:26. It was only a ten minute ride to the restaurant, but the silence was absolutely unbearable, and after a few minutes of quietly listening to him shuffle his legs obnoxiously against the glove compartment, she turned.

"This car's too small, man." He complained, banging a fist against the low roof to make his point.

"Shut up."

He wrinkled his nose at her like a child and began to mess with the knobs of her car stereo. The station blared to life and began to play cringingly loud Mariachi music. He turned the dial back and forth a few times, pausing on each station he thought sounded interesting. Gospel choir. Pop music. Advertisements. Rock music. Country music. Sports station. Back to country music.

He quit touching the radio as the sound of Johnny Cash's greatest hits began to play. The twang of the guitar thrummed loudly in Sarah's ears, and she tightened her hands around the steering wheel until the skin over her knuckles turned pinkish white. Shane clapped his hands and slumped back in the car seat, attempting to spread his long legs as best as possible in the car's small cabin. He began to sing a deep voice, slurring some of the words and leaving gaps in the lyrics as he attempted to harmonize with the radio. The song was over within a few seconds of the start of him singing, and his voice ended short of the music, leaving the last lyrics hanging dumbly in air as he stared at the screen in confusion. Sarah laughed and shut the radio off, ignoring the annoyed look he shot her.

"Alright, we're here."

"Yes." He whispered triumphantly like it was a secret, looking side to side for anyone who might have overheard him.

"Go." She said in exasperation, waving him out of the car.

"Okay, come on."

"I am not getting out of this car."

"Um. Yes you are. C'mon kid, let's go!"

"No!"

"Yes! C'mon now, I don't wanna have to make you."

"I promise you that you will not be able to get me out of this car."

"Best make promises you can keep."

She remained seated stubbornly behind the wheel with no intention of escorting him inside the fast food restaurant, no matter how long he pleaded, nudged her shoulder, or threatened to take action. He sat back and stared at her narrowly for a second, and Sarah tried her best not to meet the look, instead gazing out into the empty parking lots of the other stores in the small shopping center.

"Please?" He asked as an attempt at gentle coercion, hiccupping a few times.

"No. Why can't you go get you own tacos?"

"M'tell you something, man…" Shane began, his voice fading off towards the end of the sentence, causing Sarah to glance his way slightly.

"What do y- Hey! Hey, no, you come back here with those!"

Shane flung open the passenger's side door and inelegantly toppled out of the car, the ring of keys he had snatched from the ignition moments before clenched in his fist. Sarah gasped, completely flustered by what had happened as she spun to look out the car's rear window, watching him race up the parking lot and into the restaurant. She cursed and unbuckled herself, grabbing her purse from the backseat since she could no longer lock the car, and hurriedly followed him into the restaurant. He was waiting for her in the lobby when she ran in, despite the lack of line present at the counter to order.

"Give me my keys." She huffed angrily but quietly, trying not to draw attention to herself in the silent restaurant.

"No, 'cause you're gonna leave." He said, thinking himself clever as he held the keys behind his back.

"Yeah." She retorted.

"You got money?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Well they ain't lining up to give me free tacos, are they?"

"Oh my god." She muttered, opening her purse to fish around for her wallet. She withdrew the only bill she had in there, and handed him the ten dollars reluctantly.

He gave her a drunken smile and turned to the counter. She followed him, crossing her arms high over her chest, embarrassed and uncomfortable to be out in public without a bra. Shane slapped the bill down on the counter and spun the money around so that the portrait of Alexander Hamilton stared at the young employee waiting on them. He was too skinny for his purple uniform, a head of exaggerated curls tucked under a company embroidered visor. He looked from Sarah to Shane suspiciously, but eventually shook his head and returned to his slouched position to wait for them to order. His name tag read "Alex."

"What can I get for you?"

"As many tacos as this will get me, man." Shane said assertively, tapping a finger against the bill.

"Okay." Alex replied monotonously, not bothering to ask which type of taco he wanted or what kind of ingredients he preferred.

The boy turned and walked into the kitchen in the back after placing the order and collecting the money. Sarah tapped her bare feet against the brown tiles of the floor as she and Shane waited for his food to be delivered. He spun and leaned against the countertop, shooting her a foolish grin of self-satisfaction that he had successfully ordered ten dollars' worth of tacos. She made an effort to roll her eyes at him, and remained swaying impatiently in the cold lobby of Taco Bell.


	3. Chapter 3

Sarah sat silently across from Shane in the unforgiving plastic seats of the restaurant's dining area, watching him devour the ten dollar pile of tacos the same way a black hole devours galaxies. He hunched over the greasy stack of Mexican food and ate with mouthfuls he could barely chew, blissfully unaware of the ground beef, cheese, and lettuce that fell onto his lap each time he took a bite. Sarah wrinkled her nose in disgust as he attempted to fit the better half of a taco in his full mouth, and began to look around the restaurant out of boredom, her eyes landing on the only other customers in the entire building. She thought that the presence of other people out on a dead of the night taco run would comfort her, but instead made her feel even more ridiculous. There were four of them, seated on the opposite end of the restaurant by the windows. They looked to be about Sarah's age, all of them dressed in dark, layered clothing with pale faces and messy, badly dyed bangs. They stared back at Sarah darkly when they caught her gaze, and turned back around to continue their quiet whispering. Sarah's face went red and she turned back around to the sight of an uneaten taco hovering in front of her face, the shell split down the side and dripping grease.

"You want some?" Shane asked loudly, offering her the food.

"Um, no." She answered, pushing his hand away.

He shrugged and took a large bite of it, watching the shell break and spill all of its contents onto the wax paper below. He made a distraught face and attempted to reassemble the taco, placing the meat and such onto one half of the shell, and squishing the other half on top, biting into it like a sandwich while Sarah laughed.

"So," He started conversationally after taking a large sip from the jumbo-sized cup of root beer he had courteously treated himself to with Sarah's money as well, "Don't get many walkers 'round these parts, huh?"

Sarah's look went from confused to startled, and she whipped around to make sure no one had heard him. None of the five other occupants paid them any mind, however, no matter how loudly he had asked her about the undead population.

She turned back around. "No."

"Yeah, that won't last for long, let me tell you. Y'all ought'a board up the houses and shops while you can. Raid them convenience stores for supplies."

He balled up the empty wax paper and gripped it in his hand as he pointed to the darkened shops of the precinct that were visible through the windows.

She scoffed.

"I'm serious, man. You got to take advantage of the opportunity when you got it. Got any guns at your house?" He asked mockingly, shaking his head at her like he knew she did not own any firearms, and that made him superior to her.

"No." She replied incredulously, mimicking his head nod.

"See? You wouldn't last… two minutes out there." He slurred. "They'd say 'poor pajama girl, didn't stand a chance.' "

"My name is Sarah." She replied stormily to his insult.

"Poor _Sar-ah_, didn't stand a chance." He said, mocking the bothered way she had shouted her name.

"Whatever." She replied, shaking her head. "You done eating or what?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Sarah rubbed her face at the look he gave her and slid out of the booth to follow him as he tossed away the garbage, heading for the door. Alex at the counter wished them a nice evening in a robotic manner like all employees who worked there were required to, and Shane paused to beam back at him and return the phrase. Sarah sighed quietly to herself in relief when they finally entered the parking lot, clenching and unclenching the car keys in her hand as they descended from the steps of the restaurant. Shane stalled a bit in the parking lot as he scoped the empty shopping center, but Sarah was so close to being home in her bed and away from this strange adventure that she didn't mind him site-seeing for a few moments more.

"Hey." He finally said, rolling his tongue across his teeth as he continued to look at the stores. "I've got an idea. You got any more money?"

"No." She answered defiantly, grasping the strap of her purse. "No, and I'm not buying you anything else, so don't ask me."

He looked down at her and wrinkled his nose thoughtfully. "You sure?"

"Yes. All I've got is a credit card for emergencies and I don't even know why I told you that, but there does not seem to be any emergency here." Sarah answered with a curt nod as she scolded herself inwardly, blaming the slip of the tongue on her extreme fatigue and the insistence of her friends that she could not tell a lie to save her life.

Shane looked down at the ground for a moment, sloshing the half empty cup of soda in his hand absently. Slowly he took off the top and lifted it towards his face, and Sarah gave a loud huff that quickly escalated into a shrieking scream as he pitched the enormous drink at her, dousing her in sticky, dark soda. Sarah shook and gaped at him silently, too shocked to react to what he had just done. Her clothes clung to her skin uncomfortably, ice melting in the cradle of her camisole, and dirt sticking to her bare feet from the parking lot ground. He smiled a little bit, but attempted to cover it at the sight of the purely murderous look she shot him, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

"Why." Was all she managed to whispered, peeling the fabric off of her stomach and wringing out the wet material.

"Looks like this calls for an emergency credit card." He retorted with a triumphant look. He pointed to a spot behind her, and Sarah turned bitterly to see one of the few open stores in the center. Its glow was dim even between the completely darkened buildings flanking its sides, and at the top a red store sign flickered its unceremonious title: 24/7.

"Are you _kidding_ me?"

"You need some new clothes, and _I_ need another root beer."


End file.
